


Your Typical Fic, Right

by spindleofwords



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spindleofwords/pseuds/spindleofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles may or may not have some ideas about his place in the pack, i.e how exactly there isn't one. But Stiles has also never claimed to be the smartest.<br/>In which Stiles maybe probably has a crush on Derek and werewolf supersense is his enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So It Starts Like This, Right...

“Wait!” Stiles gasped fruitlessly as Derek did not wait but instead immediately violated his personal space, shoving the teen against the bedroom door. Which did things to his, his, his heart and body, maybe (okay, no, body definitely, if his jacked up heart beat was anything to go by) but, you know. Keyword being violated. Stiles frowned at Derek breathlessly, hand placed weakly over the alpha’s thin cotton shirt and chest. His very solid chest….his very solid, very warm chest…blue eyes leaned into his view and startled him back to the sound of Derek’s voice rasping lowly in his ears. 

“You’re injured.” 

Stiles barely suppressed a sigh as his head thunked weakly back into the wall, upset that something that trivial had caught Derek’s attention--- but surprised, too. He thought he hid it pretty well though, no matter how much he may have liked the idea of Derek possibly maybe caring about him like pack.

“Dammit, Derek, that’s it? Jeez, you came in here like the Big Bad Wolf coming to maul somebody, what the freaking hell---“

“Stiles.”

Shit. Derek’s scarily somber tone of voice was not a good sign at all, because it sounded like Derek might have noticed that Stiles had skipped out of post mission check-up, like Derek knew that Stiles had thrummed up his baby as soon as they had all returned to the station because the teen had taken one glance at the pack and their family-ness and had known, had just known he didn’t fit in, that he was an outsider, and it made him feel too much like a freshman searching for a table in the vast cafeteria the first day of school again and Stiles hated it. Swallowing down the worry in his voice and knowing he was stalling, Stiles ventured tentatively, “D’you need something, big guy?” 

No way was Stiles going to come straight out and say anything. Derek only growled deep and low in his throat and pushed Stiles further up and into the wall, and, hey, whoa, Stiles would’ve been willing to bet that that wasn’t possible, but there it was right in his face. Literally. The werewolf bared slight fangs at Stiles as the teen tensed up even more in his tight grip; Stiles’ hands flew up to clutch where Derek’s gripped his shirt and tugged, just the slightest bit. 

“Derek, c’mon, there’s no need for all of this, okay, just let go and we can talk about this, I guess, if you really want to, though I’m not sure that’s entirely necessary…”

Blue eyes that seemed right on the verge of flashing red captured his own in a furious gaze that made Stiles gulp a bit, quieting as Derek growled, “Why, Stiles.”

It might possibly have been a question, but Derek was so socially inept that he didn’t even know when something was funny enough to laugh at (ahem, Stiles’ jokes) so Stiles couldn’t expect much from the wolf. Trying to keep his cool, Stiles ventured a slight question, playing it calm and innocent.

“Why what, Derek?”

The man only pushed closer so that their noses brushed together slightly and clearly bit off another agitated growl of _“Why?"_

The gawky teen squirmed in Derek’s grasp before sighing and falling limp into the hold the wolf had on him. Stiles was exhausted and his entire side hurt like hell and he probably had a cracked rib and three and he most certainly did not want to discuss fucking feelings right now but it looked like that’s what was on the Hale’s agenda. Wearily, Stiles muttered, “You can’t just leave it alone? I just want to wrap my ribs in peace and sleep, god dammit, Derek.”

The alpha only raised an eyebrow and waited. Stiles made a face before continuing, “Look. I didn’t stick around because my dad wanted me hom—“

“Liar.”

The word is snarled into the scant space between the two of them, ringing in Stiles’ ears, and, well, sure, he was lying, but Derek didn’t have quite so much of an ass to call him on it, thank you none too kindly.

“The hell do you mean, liar? Look, you’re the one that asked me why!!”

The resounding snarling howl-growl that the statement earned him almost made Stiles regret the snark he had thrown back at the wolf but not really, so he tilted his chin forward in a definite gesture of defiance. He nearly cowered, though, when Derek bared his teeth again and there were actual fangs to worry about now, his canines lengthy and pointed, and so Stiles thought maybe it would be in his best interest to shut the fuck up at that moment in time. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles.” 

He hadn’t really thought that it was possible for his heart to get up faster in speed then it had already been racing away at, but then again werewolves and kanima and bullshit like that was also supposed to be impossible and, well. Let one Stiles Stilinski show his _life._ So. And, Stiles had always been mildly uncomfortable with lying, so sue him. Damn Derek and his werewolfy abilities.

“So? You gonna make something of it, Derek? It’s not like it’s an exact lie, my dad always wants me home by a certain time.”

Amazingly, Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ words and shifted his grip in Stiles’ shirt (which made Stiles choke back a gasp) as he snorted, “Like you’ve ever cared about that before, Stiles.”  
Stiles glared right back at the ridiculously agitated wolf in front of him, pushing back all he could on Derek’s chest, trying helplessly to get some space between them, because, yeah, he hadn’t ever really cared all that much because it was all for pack, for his pack that wasn’t his pack at all and he really really really hoped Derek didn’t know anything and couldn’t read minds or emotions or whatever he called it when he read Stiles like a book.

“It’s not anything, sourwolf, don’t get your panties in a knot—“

He interrupted himself with a slight gasp (that was very firmly not a whimper or anything resembling that at all, thank you very much) as Derek’s eyes really did flash red and he was being lifted bodily and felt not the solidity of the wall behind him but nothing but air as he was tossed unceremoniously on his own bed, his side smarting as he hit the mattress. He had mere seconds to scramble bemusedly in the bedding of his own mattress (in his very own fucking room, how was this his life) before he was being manhandled into laying down, Derek’s body covering his own with every intent of pinning just as a wolf’s gaze did with a rabbit before it devoured him, and whoa buddy, whoa there, not great thoughts, being devoured by Derek Hale, except for how they were really awesome thoughts because they were oh-so-good, wet dream good, and god dammit, his brain was so fucked up with timing, it really was. Because having attracted-to thoughts about Hale while he was laying on top of him was a bad thing, really bad, so bad except that it was so good because he wanted to stretch into the warmth and heat and muscle of Derek enough to lay there forever and…that wasn’t going to happen, because, holy fucking hell shit, Derek could probably smell it on him.

Damn his hormones.

With a shuddering gasp, Stiles began to wriggle and fight in earnest. “Derek, whoa, bad touch, bad touch, let go of me, fuck, this is such a violation of personal space, don’t you have any freaking manners?” The alpha ignored Stiles’ pitiful squeaking, his narrowed eyes reminding the teen of a wolf ignoring the scared song of a bird it’s about to pounce on. Expecting a scolding, Derek surprised him by instead giving him a brisk shake. If he was indeed a warbling songbird, his neck would’ve been broken by that shake, one that an alpha usually reserved for either snapping necks or bringing a cub into line. Since he wasn’t a cub (because cubs were part of the pack and he wasn’t a cub, no, wouldn’t ever be a cub), Stiles wrinkled his nose and prepared to die as Derek asked again quietly, voice longer and gentler, maybe the way a wolf snuffled before a mercy killing? And how was it even fair that he could die for not listening to the alpha’s orders when he wasn’t pack? 

“Tell me, Stiles.”

The near-plea brushed a warm puff of air over Stiles’ cheekbone, entirely too close for anyone to be comfortable, and so the teen tilted back his head and shut his eyes, hoping to escape the dizzying feeling. Derek made an odd sounding noise above him as the pale column of his neck stood out in stark relief against a dark bedspread.

“Why do you want to know?” His voice trembled and he hated himself for it, for the weakness that shined brightly like a flare, but when he dared to make eye contact Derek’s eyes had the same desperation in them even as he boomed angry-desperate at Stiles like a thunderstorm, complete with the lightning shock of his life.

“Because, Stiles, dammit...you think we didn’t notice you thought you weren’t part of the pack?”

He couldn’t help the gasp he made or the way his eyes shot open to stare wide and big and shiny into Derek’s, who was glaring down at him with such fury and, and, and, hurt that Stiles breathed out in a near-sob and thumped his head back down on his covers, feeling the weight of it bounce as Derek started to tremble slightly, probably from the effort of speaking so many words, Stiles was sure. 

Stiles raised his head again to look at Derek, who was….slumped, almost, against him on the bed, his forehead bent low and nearly touching Stiles’ shoulder. They breathed, just sat and breathed for long moments that stretched, and it was almost nice because apparently when combined with Adderall Derek was a calming effect when he wasn’t being scary alpha dickwad; even the teen’s thoughts slowed enough that he could actually, literally, almost completely relax into deep breaths. It surprised them both to find that they were breathing in tandem, chests brushing ever so slightly every time they breathed in and parting as they exhaled. After forever, the alpha took a deep steadying breath and tried again, his voice low and grumbly so that Stiles felt it more then he heard it.

“Why would you ever believe that?”

Best as he was able to, the teen shrugged, keeping his gaze resolutely on the ceiling as he answered softly, “I…I don’t know. I guess I just did.”

Derek huffed again against his shoulder, this time sounding more like a laugh, fond and exasperated.

“You’re an idiot, Stiles.”

And maybe he was; but he couldn’t care, because he was the pack’s idiot, and that made him inordinately happy.


	2. Then His Life Goes Like This, Right?

They took great care with him, after that; he was invited places, he was carted around on missions, forced to go to camp bonding sessions, finagled into werewolf 101 classes (in which he was the best student and the fastest learner because for once he could focus) and to be honest? Stiles never got tired of it. He loved it and drank it up with an eagerness that nearly scared himself. He spent many hours of his time texting Scott and sitting with Derek in his room in front of his computer, learning about the healing abilities and the triggers and everything there was to know about the care and feeding of your very own personal werewolf pack. 

It was wonderful.

But. But, it was getting harder, and harder, to stay and pay attention and be focused anymore, because whenever he lay in his bed at night he could stare up and feel Derek spread out all over him, only he wasn’t just spread all over at him, scolding him, no, his lips were occupied marking his neck and his hands were….busy. And it didn’t just stop at the slight remembrances of Derek’s breath against his lips and the tip of his nose brushed against Stiles’ own, no, his stupidly amazing imagination gave him too much to think about, to feel those large hands push up his shirt, callused fingers brushing the sensitive skin in the dip of his chest, groins lined up so they could push against each other and get friction, glorious beautiful friction that left Stiles sticky and gasping as he woke up abruptly in the nights, clutching fast to his pillow.

He didn’t know how it happened, but between spending time in werewolf class and Derek giving him books and looking up research with him as the man sprawled on his bed and made cutting remarks about the size of his intelligence, Stiles had managed to develop something perilously close to feelings for one alpha wolf social inept Derek Hale.  
It became awkward to see him; it started to become that every time Stiles saw those huge clear blue eyes he choked on his own cardiac muscle and had to swallow it back down, feeling every pump of the ventricles along the way back down to the proper spot in his chest. 

And damn Scott for being perceptive at the worst time; Stiles looked up too many times from his perusal of Derek to find Scott watching him at first confusedly, but with more and more understanding each time it happened. After a particularly grueling day of school in which the teachers were out for blood and the entire school seemed to be particularly set against him, Stiles climbed into the Jeep tiredly and waited for Scott to amble up and scurry in as well. The pair rode in silence until Scott leaned back in his seat with a portentous air that made Stiles cut his eyes at the wolf and finally sigh when there was no inquiry forthcoming from the curly headed passenger.

“What, Scott, _what?_? I swear, you've been giving me the confused puppy vibes for like weeks now, what is it?”

“Why do you want to fuck Derek?”

The question, expected but not in the exact sense it was posed, made Stiles’ heart jump into hyper drive and he twisted the wheel frantically before slamming to a stop on the road, breathing hard. Shit, shit, he had just spazzed, he was being too defensive already and he hadn’t even said anything, how was he going to play something like this off? 

Scott’s raised eyebrow (he must have acquired that from Derek, it was new and looked entirely wrong but somehow fitting on the teen) told his friend that Stiles had major explaining to do. Still breathing hard, Stiles let his forehead fall down to the steering wheel with a resounding whump, heaving an even bigger sigh.

“Shit, Scott, what the hell kind of question is that?”

Scott shrugged and looked out the window, eyes following the beginnings of a gray drizzle that started to drip down the glass. 

“One you should answer? You tell me, Stiles. You’ve been following Derek like a lovesick girl for days. Allison just kinda mentioned it and once I saw it, I couldn’t not see it, you know? It’s right there, in your eyes and your heartbeat.”

Stiles sighed and reached out blindly to punch Scott, who yelped more out of the sensation then the pain, then dragged his head up heavily to turn and look at Scott.

“You…you can’t tell him.”

His dumb friend looked genuinely confused, for gods’ sake. What was hard to understand about protecting one the biggest secrets in his life ever?

“Why not? He wants a go at you too, Stiles, he smells so weird every time he sees you.”

Shuddering, the now hyped up teen pulled up straight, putting the car back into drive from where he had thoughtfully pulled it over into park during his freakout minutes before. Maybe Scott was right or maybe he was wrong, but what Stiles did know was that he wasn’t going to go up to the scary alpha male and ask.

“Whatever, Scott. It’s nothing, so just leave it.”

His friend didn’t look too sure but thankfully fell quiet anyways, keeping his mouth shut for the rest of the ride as Stiles’ heartbeat remained uncomfortably fast and his thoughts kept running down the road ahead of him to bring him back images of Derek from his goddamned dreams. By the time he stopped by Scott’s house the other teen was only too happy to scramble away from the smell of arousal that Stiles’ was sure he had, however low-key, and to be honest Stiles was too happy to be alone that he didn’t even feel bad for him.

Stiles never said a word about any of it, nothing at all, even when that first day after he told Scott his goober friend had looked determined to say something to Derek and Stiles practically tackled him from across the room trying to shut his mouth. They had ended up tussling on the floor, making Jackson and Lydia roll their eyes, making Erica purse her lips and laugh mockingly, making Derek…walk away? The older man had stalked out of the door into the open air outside without a so much as you please, anger straightening out the lines of his body and pushing tension into them. Instead of immediately going to Derek, like he really wanted to do with all of his stupid Hale-filled heart, Stiles held himself back (rather admirably, he thought) as he pushed a scowling Scott off of him and looked questioningly after Derek’s lone figure for a long moment before turning back to the pack.


	3. And Then, For Once, It Just Feels Right.

It blew up in his face. He knew, sooner or later, that it would; nothing ever went right in his life for long, not long at all. And because Stiles wished so very hard for Derek to never find out, find out Derek indeed did, although maybe not with the awful repercussions Stilinski expected.

And it came in the form of something completely unexpected. Instead of almost dying by a wolf attack or some other creepy non-human thing, or being grounded to death by his father, Stiles fell one day, fell getting out of his own damn Jeep in front of his own god damn house. What the fuck kind of justice was there in that, that the moment that ruined his life was a stupid accident caused by a moronic foot placement? Stiles only sighed and picked himself up, unaware that this slight injury would be his entire world’s downfall as he saw it. 

Stiles limped into the house and went to close the door behind him only to be swept up in a whirlwind of…of…muscle and heat and dammit, Derek, in his fucking house again like he owned the entire place and the neighborhood freaking beyond. 

“De-rek!” 

His voice came out in a singsong tone of annoyance as he was deposited on….the counter? Squirming a little, already a bit uncomfortable, he only looked up into Derek’s eyes with his own huge brown gaze. When nothing else was forthcoming except that Derek had stepped back fully so that was about a foot or three between them, Stiles sighed and slid off the counter right onto his bum ankle that he had just literally twisted seconds ago, how messed up was he that the sight of Derek removed all events prior in his memory banks? Of course, he couldn’t support the weight on his ankle, because that was kind of how injuries worked, so he pitched forward instead and splayed his hands wide across Derek’s broad chest as he ended up ungracefully falling into the older man. 

Derek’s expression ranged from surprise to anger to that stupid I-am-alpha-I-must-protect-look and just, just, no, okay, Stiles didn’t need this shit right now as Derek’s hands framed the shape of his elbows and locked him in place, frozen against the length of Derek’s body.

“D-Derek, big guy, you'll need to let go of me, I—“

“Shut up.”

Shit, he was in trouble yet again. 

Derek glared down at him balefully, his shockingly blue eyes piercing, and even through the pain in his ankle Stiles’ heart jumped into a mile run just from looking at Derek, just from looking at his eyes. Those same eyes that widened in surprise again as the wolf’s ears picked up the jump in heartbeat. Not good, really not good, there was nothing good about this encounter so far today. Nervously chuckling, Stiles began in vain to try and pry himself free with even more vigor.

“Let go, sourwolf, I gotta check my ankle, right, gotta make sure I heal up okay, you know, part of the pack and all that jazz, so…”

Ignoring his words, Derek leaned close to…to snuff at Stiles, obviously breathing in the teen’s scent, which was stupid and wolf-like and dumb and not attractive except how it was really kind of amazingly attractive because who liked Stiles enough to even look at him, let alone smell him? 

“You smell…”

“Like car oil? Ehehe, I did just fill her up—“

Derek’s eyes only narrowed and he grabbed up Stiles even tighter.

“Like you're aroused.”

Stiles’ thought stuttered to a halt at the words. Did those…was he saying…fuck, Stiles had seen enough Animal Planet in his day to know exactly what “arousal” meant, and the accompanying mental image made his heart not only go faster, now, but start to beat in a staccato rhythm that couldn’t be good for him, and strangely enough his heartbeat against Derek’s chest made the other man duck his head and lay it down to touch his forehead to the teen’s shoulder. 

“D-Derek, what would give you such a stupid idea, that’s, t-that’s crazy, why would I…?”

But Stiles couldn’t bring himself to finish the flimsy excuse because Derek had tensed up at the first sound of his weak, pitiful voice and his ridiculous lies and, Jesus, he didn’t want to have to lie anymore. Not to Derek. 

From beside him Derek mumbled, “Stiles, for how long?”

“U-um…"

He could feel himself start to tremble; was aware that he was shaking in the grip of Derek’s hands but couldn’t stop. He was afraid that if he told the alpha how long he’d had a puppy dog crush on him, Derek would be too angry to talk to him; he couldn’t get a read on Derek, didn’t know if Derek was colossally disappointed in him or was laughing at him and trying not to show it. So he opened his mouth to deny any and all claims of feelings and emotions and girly bullshit until Derek turned his head and **_swiped his tongue across Stiles’ jugular._**

The shock of it made Stiles jump in Derek’s arms and then arch closer into the touch, already wanting more of that same touch everywhere and anywhere he could get it. With a sound like a whine Derek pulled Stiles fully into his arms and kissed him harshly, their teeth clicking and their jaws hurting and his hands—oh hell—traveling across his waist until they rested under Stiles’ shirt and the alpha was holding Stiles as tightly as he could. Leaving Stiles panting, Derek pulled back to breathe, his breath mingling in the small area of space between the two of them, both of them breathing heavily and the tip and crest of Derek’s nose rubbing gently against the side of his own with every breath.

“Stiles, you really are the biggest idiot alive.” 

“I….might possibly be of the lesser intelligence persuasion, yea, I see how you might get that.”

Derek actually chuckled and kissed Stiles again, taking away his attention so firmly that Stiles never noticed he was being lifted until they were halfway up his stairwell to his bedroom. Derek stopped in the middle of the stair to push Stiles up against the wall and attack his neck, making the teen moan and push into Derek’s heated touch. Stiles wasn’t sure what was going on anymore; his brain was too busy trying to wrap around the fact that he was making out with Derek Hale, the alpha, in his own freaking house, and that _oh, hell, Stiles moaned, arching his back_ Stiles was effectively turning Derek on even though he was _just like that, he gasped, hand tentatively then firmly pulling in Derek’s hair, made the wolf whine_ some stupid teen that was accepted into the pack because he forced his way in. How was this even happening? 

When they finally made it up the stair Derek pushed Stiles into his own bedroom door and brusquely removed Stiles’ shirt, panting, “I want to see you, you’re….”  
And Stiles only nodded and fingered Derek’s shirt, because he knew exactly how the wolf felt. But Stiles didn’t get far; he had Derek’s shirt half pushed up his abs when Derek attached his mouth to one of his nipples and began to kiss after the sting he left, over and over and over and it made Stiles groan the loudest yet, his bum leg hooking over Derek’s hip as he tried to bring him closer without collapsing. Derek moved but kept his head bent, moving on to the other nipple, and Stiles was so sure that the harsh nips were leaving bruises on his chest but he didn’t care, how could he when Derek moving closer meant he got shoved up the wall further and their groins aligned? Always one to look for trouble, Stiles rolled his hips experimentally, and then things got really fast; Derek stripped off his own shirt, stripped off Stiles’ jeans and boxers, knelt down and took Stiles’ all the way into his mouth all before Stiles could say anything.

“Shit!”

Stiles sank into the door with a cry, fingers scrabbling for a grip on anything at all that could give him purchase, needing something to hold onto for dear life and finding nothing. Instead he forced himself to stay standing as Derek took the head of his cock into his mouth slowly, licking the underside before swallowing him fully, cheeks hollowing. 

“Shit, shit, _shit,_ Derek—“

The older man chuckled, sending vibrations up the length of Stiles’ cock that made him double over, belly nearly touching Derek’s hair. He could feel his legs getting wobbly, and as they started to tremble underneath Derek’s hands Derek lifted him and shook free one of the lean legs from the puddle of jeans and boxers on the floor before he sat Stiles’ pale legs on his own shoulders, leaving Stiles without a ground at all as Derek started to bob his head up and down Stiles’ cock. The teen gave in and his hands drifted into Derek’s hair, fingers pulling tight as Derek hummed in approval. With every zing of pleasure that shot up his spine and coursed renewed heat through his veins, Stiles knew he wasn’t going to last long; tugging frantically at Derek’s hair, he managed to ground out, “A-Ah, D-Derek, I’m gonna…I’m g-going t-to…”

Derek pulled off with an honest grin at Stiles, knowing he was keeping the teen just at the edge of a very long precipice. In fluid motion, with grace that Stiles knew he could never hope to achieve, the man stood and picked Stiles up like he weighed nothing, wrapping the teen’s legs around his own waist and ambling over to the bed, all the while kissing Stiles gently down from where he was trembling at the stimulation. Stiles gratefully laid out on the bed when the pair reached it, reaching for Derek as soon as he was able and kissing him with all he was worth, trying to put all of the overwhelming feelings he had into the sensation, trying to lay out the story for his wolf by mapping out his mouth and stroking the sensitive spot on his tongue.

He must’ve done something right, because Derek situated himself between Stiles’ legs with a moan into his mouth before he started to grind into the human beneath him. Stiles arched up with a cry.

“That’s…! That’s, so, so—“

Derek only took the opportunity to mark at Stiles’ neck anew, kissing underneath of his ear and the edge of his jaw before heading down the column of his throat, leaving a mark every place his lips touched, and, heatedly, Stiles tried to pull away while also pushing into Derek’s thrusts. “D-Derek, you’re going to leave fucking m-marks, how am I supposed to explain those away?”

At the annoyed snark, the wolf growled and pinned Stiles’ hands above his head, eyes flashing red for just a moment.

“You aren’t.”

Stiles gulped, realizing he was nose to nose with a predator who wanted to claim him and that yes, his body found that very hot and sexy, thanks. Biting his lip to keep quiet, Stiles froze for a moment and then tilted his head back a little more, showing he was submissive to the alpha. Pleased, Derek rumbled and bit harshly at the juncture between his neck and shoulder before laving over it with his tongue, soothing the hurt away. And the thought of Derek being rough with him….Stiles choked out a plea for more before he knew he was even thinking it, but after he said it and Derek only gaped at him, the teen held on with a steady gaze, albeit accompanied by a rapid flush of bright red. 

It took them both the space of a heartbeat and then they both were tearing at each other _how was Stiles supposed to concentrate when Derek put his mouth there_ and Stiles spared a second to thank whatever god was watching over them that his dad wasn’t home because _off, he was panting, offoffoffoff, he could hear himself say over and over as he tugged at Derek’s belt loops_ who knew that Stiles made some pretty fucking wanton sounds when he was aroused? Not Stiles, to be sure. He didn’t even know that _A curse as Derek fumbled with the drawer and accidentally smashed a finger but held up the desired prize_ Derek was capable of doing something like this, but then a detached small part of his brain, the only rational part, told him that of course he should be practiced in something like this because _Stiles was pushing into Derek’s touch, Derek was only spreading big big hands across his skin in endless patterns but it drove him insane_ if someone is made of walking sex appeal they had to get it some way, right?

And then his brain shut down entirely as his entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Derek spreading his legs apart gently, knees opened wide. Almost lovingly, Derek stroked Stiles’ knee, kissed it and murmured something into the skin, while one finger trailed down his cock, circled his balls, and then teasingly massaged the innermost part of him with a slick finger, Stiles’ own tube of wet on the bed next to him. 

“D-Derek…”

He was reduced to a panting, sprawling, moaning mess on the bed, bright red nearly all over in a full body flush as his legs twitched and he held himself open like some whore but Derek made everything better, Derek who kissed his fluttering stomach muscles and licked at the head of his dick and pushed his finger in slowly, agonizingly slowly and then sat there finger fucking into him deep and slow until his muscles could take another finger in. The teen learned if he just concentrated on the feeling of it his body went all soft and loose, and he’d be rewarded with another finger. Stiles whined and tried to push down; he was stopped as the other male reached out a shaking hand and gripped his waist. Voice low, eyes hooded, Derek just sat and watched his fingers pump in and out of Stiles, making the overheated teen thrash on the bed in his supernaturally strong grip.

“You’re…”

Derek’s voice faded as if he lost his train of thought, watching the boy’s torture with a boundless patience as he studied Stiles’s prone form and felt Stiles become more and more restlessly nervous under his fingertips.

“D-De—ah—D-Derek, come on, come on, I want you to fuck me, get on with it!”

Derek’s azure gaze snapped up to meet Stiles’ own stare and, not sure if it would work or just look stupid, the teen bit his lip and made his eyes go kind of big and soft. 

“P-Please?”

Sucking in a near gasp, Derek crawled back up the bed to kiss Stiles senseless and shucked off the last part of his clothing, jeans and underwear flying somewhere behind him that Stiles couldn’t even pretend to care about. Ripping the condom out of the wrapper, Derek hurried to roll it on, but Stiles plucked it from his fingers and said, “Let me,” in a voice that was hardly his own, raspy and needy and full of sex. The man above him only moaned as Stiles’ fingers brushed along the line (the rather thick, long line) of his cock as the teen drew his hand away, the rubber completely on. Slicking himself with a little more lube, Derek pushed Stiles flat on his back with one hand to the center of his chest and rumbled, “Are you…okay? With this? We don’t…”

Stiles growled, growled in frustration, sure that speaking his own language was the only way to get through to him. Nearly snarling, Stiles said, “Derek. Hurry. Up.”

Derek’s eyes became hooded as he bent his head and pushed into Stiles slowly, taking his time though the brunet’s head thrashed on the pillow and his fingers dug into the tan skin of Derek’s biceps, asking for more. He rolled his hips against Stiles’ skin after he was pressed flush up against the brunet and Stiles moaned, pushing back down with his own hips unthinkingly. Hands tightening into the soft pink skin at Stiles’ hips, Derek began to thrust in slowly with measuredly deep thrusts that made Stiles stutter out a small, hitching gasp nearly every time the wolf drove into him. 

Unable to help himself, Stiles wanted to get closer, closer still, addicted to the feeling of Derek in him, claiming him roughly as if he were something that belonged to the wolf, something wanted and cherished. The teen’s hands bluntly clawed red welts down Derek’s back, arching into Derek just to get more of the brush of skin on skin, and even as he bared up his chest and heart and soul Derek leaned down and demanded Stiles’ lips, groaning at the feel of Stiles’ tongue pushed up against his even as Stiles tried to focus on getting enough air to kiss him with. Stiles felt dizzy, as if he was floating in a dream-like state that was all too real, like someone had turned up his television to high contrast and he was seeing everything in sharp and bright detail. The way the sweat fringed at the tips of Derek’s hair; the way his skin felt like it was bruising under Derek’s punishing grip; the way the pale light of a half-moon spilled into his room from the window and lit up the line of Derek’s back and his own hands gripping Derek’s shoulders tightly. Everything noticed but forgotten in the space of one breath, one thrust, able to think too much in the sharp pull out but unable to do anything but hang on for the push back in, the slide of it making Stiles shudder in Derek’s arms as Derek gathered him closer, an arm around his waist that tilted him up and —oh holy mother of god—changed the angle.

“A-ah, ah, Derek! Derek! Right there, that’s—“

His voice trailed up into a near scream as Derek slammed into his prostate again, taking the waves of pleasure he was experiencing and folding them into themselves doubly. They were starting to build, not only waves now but literal shocks of sensation that spiked across his spine and out through his fingertips, and he was hyper aware of his cock brushing against Derek’s stomach, of Derek whispering, “Yes, just like that, come on,” every time he shivered into a gasp or moan, and Stiles knew that he was going to be fried out before long.

“Shit, shit, Derek, I’m…I-I’m…please, can I, will you let me…?”

It didn’t feel right to not ask permission, felt like the most right thing in the entire world to ask permission from his alpha for one of the most important moments he’d ever have with Derek. Voice low and wrecked, Derek laid Stiles flat on the bed and leaned in close, hooking one of the pale long lines of his legs over his shoulder and pushing into Stiles faster.  
“I can smell it all over you, you’re so tense, come on already, come, I want to see it.”

A violent shudder ran through Stiles’ muscles before he slammed up, back in a perfect bow, as he shot long stripes of white across his own chest and belly, feeling, belatedly, a spot of it land under his chin. Spent, Stiles relaxed completely only to whimper and lock his arms around Derek’s neck as Derek finished, thrusts erratic and even faster, brushing against his oversensitive prostate in a way that hurt brilliantly well. 

Both of them panting, Derek pulled out slowly as he was able to manage, earning a whimper from Stiles as he trembled on the bed. The alpha lay slowly down next to Stiles after he tied off the condom and threw it away, and immediately had himself an armful of spent, happy, come-smeared teen. Stiles unashamedly pressed in closer to Derek, arms wrapped around him, tucking his head under the larger man’s chin.

“Mmm, Derek.”

Derek’s voice was tired but amused as he tilted up Stiles’ chin and licked at the small stripe of come under his jaw, murmuring, “Yeah, Stiles?”

The teen only pushed into the touch and smiled tiredly at the small lapping of Derek’s tongue cleaning his neck.

“Stay?”

Derek tensed for a second before re-arranging himself and Stiles on the bed so that Stiles was sprawled across his chest, then closed his eyes and relaxed into the mattress before muttering yes with that stupid half smirk that Stiles knew very well.


End file.
